PROLOGUE Merlin: Guinevere
by EdibleMundie
Summary: When I was lost, I was found. When I was weak, I became strong. In the darkness of war, I found a light. Training made me a fighter. Magic made me a warrior. Love made me a protector. My scars I have earned, my secrets I have kept, my life I have given. You know my name, but not my story. I am Queen Guinevere...


_**Authors Note**_

 _Welcome to the Merlin section of my FanFiction. These stories follow Guinevere and what her life would be like if she were a witch, born to the Druids, rescued by a Knight, and brought back to Camelot. The story will still follow the love story between Guinevere and Arthur but from a different perspective. As an added feature, I decided to keep up with the Merlin show as a point of reference so you will see many of your favourite characters feature here._

 _This is the first of Guinevere's stories, a sort of prologue to the Merlin series. This story and all it's content will be a background for Guinevere's arrival to Camelot and how so came to be the warrior and queen that she was born to be._

 _The Merlin series part of this story will follow in a similar fashion to my Supernatural FanFiction where I will place the series and episode number preceding the headline for those who wish to follow the story in chronological order._

* * *

 **Prologue  
** **Battle Training**

Guinevere barely kept her balance as she stood on one foot atop a thing wooden pole about three feet off the ground. Her father was training her to keep her balance amidst a battle. Her body kept jerking left then right, forward then back, as she tried to find a happy medium before throwing the blade in her hand at the moving target. "I don't understand why I have to be balanced on a wooden pole, on one foot, while trying to hit a moving target father. I'm not going to go into a fight balanced on a wooden pole, on one foot, while trying to hit someone with a throwing knife," she groaned in frustration as she was unable to keep her balance long enough to make the throw. She still hadn't hit the target. Not even close.

"What happens if you are injured and only have the use of one leg?" Her father asked. "Or you fall into a trap, one leg tied up as you dangle from a tree, swinging left to right while upside-down?" Guinevere rolled her eyes. She knew her father was right. It was better to be prepared than to be caught off guard. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate.

Her father, Sir Leon, was a Knight of Camelot who had served King Uther for many years before Guinevere's birth. Of course, the only people who knew of Gwen's true origin were her mother and father and her mother passed when she was barely six years old. During the Great Purge, King Uther ordered that all adults known to be practicing magic be put to death and that all offspring of those adults be drowned. Guinevere was one such child, but her infancy and desperate frightened cries softened the heart of a loyal Sir Leon who had for months been unsuccessful in producing a child with his wife. In secret, Leon kept Guinevere and brought her back to Camelot where he and his wife claimed her as their own. No one questioned it since Gwen had the same dark golden hair as her father and the same green eyes as her mother, although her shone just a little brighter than normal. It wasn't until an attack on the Citadel four years later that her powers came into light as Guinevere saved her mother from the savagery of the enemy. At her deathbed, her mother told Leon of Guinevere's powers and how Gwen had saved her that night during the attack; she made him promise on her deathbed that he would not tell anyone and that he would do whatever he needed to protect Gwen from King Uther. Since Gwen had only been known to use her power in times of desperation, Leon began to train her at age six to be a better fighter than even he so that should danger ever come, she could protect herself without the use of her magic. It has been six years since the death of her mother and to this day, she still had no control over her powers.

Gwen found her balance breathing in slowly and deeply as she found her inner strength. The moment she opened her eyes, the blade left her fingers tips, spiraling through the air with such force, striking the center of the moving target and knocking it from its swing. Guinevere leapt for joy forgetting for a moment that she was balancing on the wooden pole, her glee causing her to fall directly onto her face on the ground below. She groaned in pain and disappoint that she had once against lost her focus. "Guinevere!" her father rushed over to her and pulled her up forcefully not as a concerned parent, but as an angry one. "What have I told you about using magic?" he whispered angrily, frantically looking over his shoulders to see if anyone was nearby. Father was always careful to conduct their sessions deep in the woods away from Camelot in case something ever _did_ happen.

"But father, I didn't use my magic! At least, not on purpose," Guinevere replied in her own defense as she scrambled to her feet.

"Do you know what the King will do to you if he found out? To me?" She could tell her father was afraid. Gwen sighed and put her head down in shame.

"They'll put you on a pyre and burn you at the stake and drown me until dead," she replied defeatedly. Guinevere was never protected from the threat of her magic hanging over her head. Her father sighed and wrapped his arms around her.

"You have to be more careful Gwen. I can't lose you too," he said. "I think that's enough training for today. Let us go home shall we?" Gwen nodded and smiled as they both walked back towards the horses. Guinevere learned to ride when she was three years old, so she had no issues keeping up with her father's canter back to the Citadel.

Back at the Citadel, Leon was called to a meeting with the King, leaving Guinevere to wander the halls alone. Most of the time her father kept her behind closed doors afraid of what might happen should she be discovered, and her magic uncovered, but Gwen tended to sneak out on her own without his knowledge, though sometimes she wondered whether he just pretended he knew nothing of her adventures. Still, Guinevere kept her head down and tried not to interact with anyone else in the castle. The problem was, trouble always seemed to find her…

As Guinevere rounded the corner, she ran full on into a blonde hair boy about her age, knocking her off balance and sending her to the floor. She only needed to see the red cape to know who it was that she had just run into. She had just knocked Prince Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, to the ground. Guinevere could tell that the Prince was fixing to throw a temper-tantrum.

"How _dare_ you?" he seethed through his teeth as he picked himself off the floor. He was sweat profusely, wearing a jousting garment as if he had just come from a training session. "Do you _know_ who I am?" He huffed, dusting himself off.

Guinevere picked herself off the floor and dusted herself tunic off. She had a habit of dressing like a boy which often earned her concerned looks from the ladies of Camelot, but she didn't worry. She even remembered the first time she ever met the Prince and his father. Gwen and her father were walking around the market when suddenly King Uther and Prince Arthur appeared. Recognizing one of his own knights, the King stopped for a chat, no doubt to appeal to the peasants of Camelot. Uther made a statement about him not knowing that Sir Leon had a son, and that was when Gwen's father informed the King that Gwen was in fact, a girl. Despite her father's repeated attempts to get Gwen into a dress, he eventually gave up. So, King Uther asked Gwen why she dressed like a boy. Gwen replied by asking _"Your Majesty, have you ever gone to war in a dress?"_ Her entirely serious question became a jokingly talked about sense of humor which made the King laugh.

Guinevere snapped back to the present and stared at Arthur with a bad taste her mouth. He was a pompous little ass who thought that his royalty made him better than everyone. Arthur was dressed in what looked like jousting gear doused in sweat. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Arthur…" she said, crossing her arms. "I thought the point of being a royal was _not_ to smell like a peasants pig sty? Haven't you ever heard of a bath?" she asked annoyed at the sight of him. Arthur finally looked at her.

"You!" She was surprised Arthur recognized her. They had met on several occasions since both of their fathers worked closely together, but Arthur never paid her a second glance.


End file.
